It’s Not a Tuma’

16 06 2008

(Title should be read in your best Schwarzenegger accent)

I seem to have developed a tumor- a twenty-two pound screaming growth that shows up every night right around dinner time. My symptoms are loss of hearing, stemming from the blaring ‘mamamamamama’ that emits from said tumor, lack of mobility caused by the tumor’s appearance on one or both of my legs, and a loss of patience…and sometimes my sanity. The doctor had the audacity to insist it was normal, and offered me no reprieve. In desperation, I consulted an exterminator, but he just walked away chuckling. No one seems to be the least bit concerned about this harrowing new development. So, I’m stuck – dragging this darling ten month old across the floor as I prepare dinner. I can only hope this condition changes sometime before he’s thirteen…

Pot Roast with a side order of Guilt

16 06 2008

Okay, I’m having another one of those ‘don’t-tell-my-husband” kind of weeks. Thankfully, I know the blogosphere is a safe confessional outlet. My husband lives with my insanity, so he avoids reading my blog…no need to torture himself anymore than necessary. 😉

Anyway, three days ago, I went to the grocery store. Juggling, I entertained Drew while weighing produce and selecting this week’s fare. At home, I continued the circus act, keeping Drew from crawling in the freezer or slipping outside while I carried in and put away the groceries. Mission accomplished – or so I thought. Later that night, I suddenly remembered that I had purchased some meat, but did not remember ever putting it in the freezer. In a panic, I ran out to the car to check the trunk hoping the whole time that I had left the bag at the grocery store – if so, I could take the receipt in the next day and beg for their mercy. Sadly, when I reached the car, I found one lone grocery bag slid behind the empty gas can. I peaked inside and found two steaks and a pot roast partially ‘cooked’ from sweltering in the garage for eight hours. Arghhh… I quickly tied up the bag and stuffed it in the freezer. At least it wouldn’t smell up the place. For a nanosecond, I contemplated serving them anyway, but my husband’s love for medium rare would have surely landed him in the hospital. So I succombed to the knowledge that I had just thrown away frozen $25.00 worth of wasted meat. I couldn’t tell my husband…he would have made that face – oh, the guilt!

The rancid meat is still sequestered in my freezer. My plan is to wait until trash day…and then make the unsuspecting garbage man my accomplice…

Fast forward to today and another shopping excursion – this time to the wonderful world of Target. After an hour of shopping and a hectic moment of wrestling a price tag from Drew’s mouth, I raced to the cashier. In the midst of her ringing up the order, I reached for my wallet – and, of course, it wasn’t there. Banging my head against the cart, I confessed to the cashier. I offered to just give her my credit card number, but she needed to have the actual card. I offered to give her my first born child…but, then realized I was purchasing all baby items, making that exchange futile. Thankfully, the nice Target lady offered to hold all my merchandise till I returned. She was the bright spot in my day. I drove home wasting precious gas to pick up my wallet and drive all the way back wasting even more precious gas. We don’t live far from Target, but in today’s economy, the gas I used was probably worth more than two steaks and a pot roast – at least by an additional chicken breast…or maybe a hamburger.

I’m debating right now if I should use the ‘dumb blonde‘ head tilt or the ‘deer in the headlights‘ stare when Tim asks me why he needs to purchase gas so soon. Supposedly, confession would be good for my soul – I’m just not convinced it would be good for my husband. 😕 So, umm, let’s just keep this between us, okay?